


Medvezhonok

by lanyon



Series: Medvezhonok [1]
Category: Captain America (2011), The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Kidfic, murderfluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-23
Updated: 2013-05-01
Packaged: 2017-11-14 22:10:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/520028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanyon/pseuds/lanyon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winter Soldier is on the run and no one is more surprised than he is by the fact that he is accompanied by a little boy who seems convinced that he is his father:</p><p>“What’s that, Papa?”</p><p>Papa flinches and looks at Stefan. “It’s called a Kalashnikov,” he says, in a strange voice. “You’re not to touch it, okay?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. From Russia With Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [haipollai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/haipollai/gifts).
  * Translation into 中文 available: [熊仔](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1536206) by [poppyshen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/poppyshen/pseuds/poppyshen)



> +Huge thanks to Polly and Screamlet for casting their eyes over this ongoing work. Thanks also to Ellie, Ellie, Erin, Jey and Luc for being super-supportive.  
> +This one's for Sarah, as always.  
> + **Warnings** for unknowing/unconsented procreation, under the guise of pseudo-science, pseudo-medical endeavours and artificial insemination.

“What is your name?”

“Stepan Yakovlevich Medved.” 

“What’s this picture? Did you paint it?”

The child, with his shock of brown hair and big brown eyes, beams, and it is an impossibly cheerful smile, given the grey decrepitude of their surroundings. He nods. “This is my house and this is my cat, Sasha, and this is Mama and this is Papa.”

The painting is a riot of colour and structurally unsound walls and smiling faces and black dots for eyes.

“And where are your parents now?”

The child’s expression changes in an instant. He looks around, eyes widening in panic. 

“When did you last see your parents?”

“I - ” His bottom lip quivers but he does not cry. The child is shown back to his bedroom, which is scarcely more homely than the interrogation room and he is asking for his Mama and for his Papa. 

.

[start transmission] _Start transcription:  
Subject Medvezhonok, aged three years, is progressing satisfactorily. As expected, he remains above the ninety-fifth percentile for all critical values. Of note, memory manipulation appears to have been successful. Subject Medvezhonok is unaware of his true parentage._

_It is my belief that we have avoided the errors associated with Subject L’venok when, as you will recall, a maternal bond was inadvertently created. While Subject L’venok subsequently became a proficient operative, that was indubitably a failure (refer to my letter dated January 2002, detailing his disappearance). Subject Medvezhonok has, at best, vague memories of a maternal figure, enough to comfort but not distract._

_I further believe that use of Subject Alpha’s DNA has been a categorial success. He is, after all, our masterpiece. His progeny can be no less. We will succeed where the Red Room failed and - what are you? You can’t be in here -_

[end transmission]

.

Stefan knew that Papa would come for him. He knew he just had to be patient. That’s what he has learned, like his numbers and his letters. Papa will always come for him. 

“Come on, _medvezhonok_ ,” Papa mutters, scooping Stefan up into his arms, scratchy bedclothes and all. 

“Where is Mama?”

“I don’t know,” says Papa. “I don’t know where your parents are but we’ve got to get out of here, Stefan, you understand that?”

Stefan nods but he doesn’t understand. He buries his nose against Papa’s neck, right at the join of his Papa’s metal arm and shoulder and breathes in and everything smells like Papa so everything will be okay. 

Papa’s strong enough to carry Stefan with one arm as he runs down all the stairs of the ugly building that is not home, that does not have Sasha the cat or Mama singing along to the kitchen radio in a low, husky voice. Papa tells Stefan to keep his eyes shut and not to open them, no matter what happens. Papa tells Stefan there’s going to be some shouting and loud noises and he puts his own hat on Stefan’s head, pulling it down over Stefan’s ears and then Papa is running and jostling Stefan but Stefan doesn’t mind because he’s holding on to Papa, his arms tight around Papa’s neck. 

Stefan doesn’t remember much of what happens. Papa is shouting in a language that isn’t Russian and men are shouting back at him and they sound angry and Papa switches to Russian, his hand firm on Stefan’s back.

“I’ll blow the whole place, I promise you that.”

“Give us the child, _Soldat_. He’s not your concern-”

“He seems to think so.”

“He’s simple - he doesn’t know - he -”

Papa is walking forward and the voices get weaker and Stefan thinks maybe they’re frightened except that grown-ups don’t get frightened. Grown-ups are brave like Papa and they smile like Mama, who hardly ever cries, except when the men came to take Stefan away. 

“You are worse than the Red Room _ever_ was,” says Papa.

“ _Yasha_ , if you walk out that door - “

Papa is brave, like grown-ups are. He keeps walking and it is a warm night and Stefan doesn’t need the hat but he keeps it on his head because Papa put it there and then the night gets warmer and there’s a loud noise and a blast of hot air. Papa breaks into a run. Stefan clings tighter and maybe he falls asleep because the next thing he knows is that Papa is lying him down on the backseat of a car and murmuring in the language that’s not Russian, _what the fuck am I doing?_

.

When Stefan wakes up, it is daytime, and the sun is shining through thin red curtains and everything is pink. Papa is sitting on a chair in the corner of the room and he’s got something on the table.

“What’s that, Papa?”

Papa flinches and looks at Stefan. “It’s called a Kalashnikov,” he says, in a strange voice. “You’re not to touch it, okay?” 

Stefan nods and he gets out of bed and it’s a grown-up bed and he feels suddenly very proud that he’s not sleeping in a baby bed anymore, with rails to keep him from falling out. He walks over to Papa and scrambles up onto Papa’s lap. 

“Where’s Mama?” he asks in a small voice, after a moment of fiddling with the buttons on Papa’s shirt. 

Papa takes a breath. Stefan can hear it because his ear is pressed against Papa’s chest and he can hear the lub-dub of Papa’s heart too. There is a moment when Papa doesn’t say anything but then he wraps his arms around Stefan and sighs against the top of Stefan’s head.

“I don’t know, Stepushka,” Papa whispers and Stefan understands a little more and starts to cry.

.

They stay in the room all day and all night. Papa goes out in the evening and tells Stefan not to open the door to anyone, even him, and he’s muttering to himself about leaving a three year-old on his own and Stefan wants to tell him that he’s nearly four. 

Stefan’s birthday is December the twenty-seventh and that’s soon because it’s in winter which comes after autumn and he knows this, like he knows his numbers and his letters and like he knows he should always do what Papa tells him. 

Papa comes home with blini wrapped up in brittle, shiny paper and it’s the best supper Stefan’s had for a long time. 

After they’ve eaten, Stefan thinks it’s bath-time because it’s always bath-time after supper, but Papa doesn’t say anything about it. Stefan climbs onto his lap again and this time Papa’s arms wrap around him much quicker and Stefan holds Papa’s metal hand. When he was little, Mama told him that sometimes Papa was sad about his hand so Stefan was never to treat it any differently than Papa’s warm hand, with fingernails and a scar across the palm. Secretly, Stefan thinks he prefers Papa’s metal hand because it’s different and Stefan’s always been told that he is different and that he’s special. 

“Stefan,” says Papa.

“Yes, Papa,” says Stefan.

“Why do you call me that?”

Stefan laughs because Papa is being silly. Papa isn’t often silly and Mama says that’s because he has so many serious things to think about. “Because you’re my Papa.”

“What’s your name?”

“Stepan Yakovlevich.”

“And do you know what my name is, _medvezhonok_?” Papa squeezes him gently. 

“You are Yakov Yurievich.” 

“That’s right,” says Papa, after another sigh. “That’s right. And what’s Mama’s name?”

Stefan opens his mouth to answer but he does not know what to say. “I forget,” he whispers and he doesn’t mean to cry because he’s a grown-up like Papa, and he gets to eat blinis with his hands so that the hot cheese oozes over his fingers, and he gets to sleep in a grown-up bed. 

Papa rubs his back and tells him that everything will be okay. 

.

They are in a car. Stefan doesn’t think it’s their old car though this car is very old and makes strange wheezing noises that make Papa swear and Papa swearing makes Stefan giggle and Stefan giggling makes Papa smile, and it’s one of Papa’s proper smiles and the creases at the corners of his eyes grow more creases. 

“Where are we going, Papa?”

“We’re going to Vladimir,” says Papa.

“Are we there yet?”

“Not even close, Stepushka.” Papa gives him a gentle smile and this is a new smile and Stefan thinks he likes it. “We’re taking the long way round.” The car wheezes again and Papa thumps the steering wheel. “Stupid heap-of-junk piece-of-”

Stefan creases up with laughter and then Papa is laughing too. Papa’s eyes are wide and a little wild. 

They stay in a town called Suzdal that night. Papa says they’ll have to sleep in the car and Stefan thinks that’s the most exciting thing he’s ever heard. They go for a walk through a low-lying field and there’s a church with a pretty dome out in the middle of nowhere. They have to cross a little wooden bridge and there is a stream that passes sluggishly beneath their feet and the grass is almost taller than Stefan. Papa lifts him up and they go into the church and it’s cool and quiet. 

When they leave, the sun has set and Stefan is scared that they might get lost and Papa puts a hand on his shoulder and says that as long as there are people looking for them, they’ll never really be lost.

Stefan is not reassured and he holds his Papa’s hand tight. They sleep in the backseat of the car and it’s a warm night and Stefan is tucked up safe against his Papa’s chest. They wake up early because the nights are short and they drive into town, with its white walls and blue roofs and they stop in a shop for bread and Stefan wants blinis again, and hot cheese that oozes over his fingers, but Papa is quiet today. 

Vladimir is a big city. Stefan doesn’t think he’s ever been in a city this big. He’s heard of Moscow and St Petersburg but he’s never been to either. They park the car in an open-air car park, where the concrete is a little cracked and there are weeds growing around the edge. A bus pulls up while Papa’s hefting his bag onto his back and a group of girls tumble out . 

“Oh, he’s so beautiful,” they say and Stefan hides behind Papa’s legs when he realises they’re talking about him. 

Papa reaches his hand towards him and he’s wearing long sleeves and a glove on his left hand even though it’s summer. Stefan holds on tight. 

“Say hello, Stefan,” says Papa. He laughs and it’s a warm sound and it doesn’t sound a thing like Papa when he is happy. The girls giggle some more so maybe they don’t know the difference. Papa is a good liar, Stefan thinks suddenly. Papa would never lie to him, though. 

They walk for miles, Stefan thinks, and he doesn’t complain once even though his legs are tired. It is only when he stumbles that Papa swears and scoops him up into his arms. 

“I’m sorry, Papa,” says Stefan. “Don’t be angry-”

“I’m not angry with you, Stepushka,” says Papa. “I’m angry with myself. You’ve got a useless Papa.”

“You’re my favourite Papa,” says Stefan, thoroughly scandalised at the thought there could be anyone better. It’s not Papa’s fault that he forgot that Stefan is only little, not when Stefan’s trying to be as grown-up as he can be. 

“I’m glad to hear that,” says Papa and he sounds a little strangled like maybe he’s laughing which is strange because Stefan isn’t joking.

They arrive at a building that’s a little like the apartment building Stefan lives in with Mama and Papa and Sasha the cat. Papa presses some buttons. 

“Yes?” says a harsh voice, warped by the little speaker by the door.

“Doctor, it’s Yasha,” says Papa. “I need your help.”

There is silence and then there is a shrill beep. Papa pushes the door open. The elevator is broken so Papa has to walk up all the steps. It’s a long way but Papa is barely breathing any heavier when they stop at a door with red paint that’s peeling and gold numbers. 

“Nine-Three-Two,” says Stefan, proudly.

When they go inside, Stefan wrinkles his nose. The apartment smells funny, like hospitals. 

“What have you done, Yasha?” A tall man comes out of another room, drying his hands on a grey towel. “Going off the reservation is one thing but stealing a child- Ah, it’s the little bear-cub himself.”

“Ask him his name,” says Papa. “Go on, Lyonya. Ask him.”

Stefan stays still as the man crouches down in front of him. 

“What is your name?” the man asks, gruffly.

Stefan doesn’t like him but Papa is watching. “Stefan Yakovlevich Medved,” he says. 

“Oho,” says the man. “I see what they did.” 

“I’m glad one of us does,” says Papa. He holds his hand out to Stefan and he clings onto it. “Can we stay, Lyonya?” 

The man looks at them both for a moment and he rubs his chin. “Yes, I think so.”

Later, Papa puts Stefan to bed. The sheets smell strange and nothing like the clean bedclothes Stefan has at home. Stefan falls asleep almost immediately, though.

.

When he wakes up, it’s dark, apart from a thin sliver of light shining under the door. Stefan can hear Papa talking to Lyonya and, quiet as a mouse, he slips out of bed and creeps over to the door. He looks through the crack between the door and the doorframe to see Papa sitting at the table with Lyonya. They have a glass bottle that’s half-full and a glass each. Papa swallows down his drink and Lyonya pours him another glass.

“You know what this means, Yakov.”

Papa looks tired. “It means we have to get out of Russia.”

“Don’t be too hasty,” says Lyonya. “Yes, you must go but they will be watching for you. You should wait here. Two weeks, maybe a month. They’ll think you’ve gone east. I can arrange for a sighting in Ekaterinburg, if you like.”

Papa drains the glass again, with a wince. “Why are you helping us?”

“Why did you come to me, Yasha? Not because you trust me, surely.”

Papa shrugs. He rolls his neck and his arm shines. Stefan likes to trace the star. “You are a dead man.”

Lyonya laughs. “It does not make me any more trustworthy, or any less.” 

“You are L’venok,” says Papa. “If you know anything about what Stefan is-”

“Stefan is what he is,” says Lyonya. He looks towards the door and Stefan gasps and holds himself very still. There is a faint smile on Lyonya’s lips and it frightens Stefan. “He is the son of the Winter Soldier.” 

“How can you tell?” asks Papa and now he is reaching for the bottle himself. He drinks straight from it, much to Stefan’s horror. 

“Because he looks like you, genius,” says Lyonya. “He’s practically a clone.”

Papa slams down the bottle and somehow it doesn’t break, though the table creaks. “You don’t think they-”

Lyonya holds up his hand. “No, no. They don’t have that technology yet. My guess is that they milked you like a fucking cow while you were sleeping and some pretty girl offered to do her bit for comrade and country.”

Papa doesn’t look any happier. He closes his eyes. “What were they thinking?”

“Probably the same thing they were thinking with me. A child of the Red Room. How wonderful.” Lyonya claps his hands together once but Stefan doesn’t think he’s really applauding. “How can we mould him? How can we make him greater even than the Winter Soldier or the Black Widow? There’s another question, though, Yasha. A more important one.”

“And what’s that?”

“What were _you_ thinking, dragging the boy out of the only home he’s known?”

“You think I should have left him? _You_ , of all people?” Papa bows his head. “He calls me _Papa_. He _remembers_ me.”

“And so you stole him away and lit up the whole goddamned factory while you were at it.” Lyonya suddenly chuckles. “Well, at least you destroyed the evidence and some of the most goddamned valuable material on the planet.”

Papa frowns. “What do you mean?”

Now Lyonya is wheezing with laughter and he sounds like the car that Papa and Stefan drove in to Vladimir. “The Winter Soldier’s spunk’s gone up in fl-flames,” he says, “and all that’s left is here-” He jabs at Papa between the legs, making Papa yelp, and then he points at Stefan’s door. “And in that little boy. Oh, they’ll be looking for you, Yasha.”

Papa growls at Lyonya and picks up the bottle again. Stefan creeps back into bed and he falls asleep until Papa comes in to lie down. Papa’s breath smells kind of funny, sour and sweet. Stefan tries to squirm away but then Papa’s arm wraps around him and it’s the first time in days that Papa has cuddled Stefan without Stefan crawling into his lap. Stefan settles down and whispers, “goodnight, Papa.”

He thinks Papa is already asleep until he hears a hoarse, “goodnight, _medvezhonok_ ,” and it is the first time Papa has sounded like Papa all evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> +The title, _Medvezhonok_ means _bear cub_ (or _teddy bear_ ); given that I have lost more Russian than I ever learned, feel free to correct me on my attempts at the language.  
> +There will be future Bucky/Steve and appearances by all of our favourite Avengers and SHIELD agents.


	2. Never Say Never Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> +Thanks again to Polly, and to everyone who's been so super-supportive of this writing venture. I'd also like to thank chipsaestrella for the help with my meagre attempts at Russian.

They stay in Vladimir, in the hospital-smelling apartment for weeks. Stefan doesn't like it but he knows better than to say that to Papa. He can tell that Papa isn't happy. He prowls around like a caged animal, twitching at the curtains, though they're nine floors up.

Lyonya is gone all day, every day. Sometimes, he comes home and puts bags of groceries on the table in front of Papa and tells him to cook. Stefan didn't know that Papa could cook. Mama always makes dinner. 

Stefan learns that Papa isn't a very good cook and that peasant soup is his specialty. 

"Your son is a growing boy!" cries Lyonya, poking at his bowl of soup with a cautious finger. "You can't boil the shit out of vegetables and call it good."

Papa looks at Stefan with one of his expressions that looks kind of confused and kind of thoughtful. "My son," he whispers, like it's news, like he never told Stefan bedtime stories or gave him his bath even though Stefan cried. Stefan doesn't cry at bath time anymore.

Papa drums his fingers on the table top, a dull clunk of metal on wood. 

"Stefan," Papa says. "It's time for you to learn English."

Stefan doesn't know what that means except that Lyonya laughs and gets to his feet and everything creaks. "I have just the thing," he says. He leaves the room and Stefan can hear him rummaging out in the narrow front hall. Papa shrugs and maybe he's too tired to be curious. 

When Lyonya comes back in, he drops a sheaf of faded, dog-eared comics on the table. 

Papa's eyes widen. "What are these?" He picks up the comics with trembling hands and Stefan wants to take one and look at the pictures. The letters are unfamiliar. He looks at Papa.

"They're in English, aren't they?" says Lyonya. He has a sly smile on his face.

"What are they, Papa?" asks Stefan.

"They're comics, Stepushka," says Papa. "They're about a man called Captain America."

.

Soon, Stefan can count to twenty in English. He knows the alphabet and, sometimes, Papa looks at him and shakes his head. Sometimes, Papa reaches out and ruffles his hair and tells him he's a clever boy, much cleverer than his old Papa. 

.

Papa is still not happy. He says they’ve been here five weeks and nothing’s happened. Lyonya tells him that’s a good thing and Stefan labours over the comics that are now his most treasured possessions. 

“We can’t stay here for ever,” Papa says and Stefan thinks that his voice sounds like a growl.

“And you won’t,” says Lyonya. They’re both in the kitchen because Lyonya is sick of Papa’s attempts at cooking. “Chop those - no, thinner than that. I know you know how to use a knife, soldier.” 

“Why are you helping us?” asks Papa.

Stefan can hear the chop-thwack-chop of Papa cutting vegetables. 

“Someone once told me that we’re not the bad guys -”

“Someone _lied_.”

“Someone once told me that the only really innocent people, though, are the children.” Lyonya breaks off to cough. “That was in 1968, Yasha. I was seven.”

Papa grunts. “I don’t remember 1968.” 

“Really? We did rather well in gymnastics and shooting in Mexico City and we invaded Czechoslovakia.”

“The value of transferrable skills.”

“You really don’t remember?”

“You know I don’t.” Papa’s voice is sharp and it makes Stefan flinch though he’s never heard that tone before. 

“You walked past me, with at least eight other soldiers and you stopped. And you crouched down and you asked if I loved the Motherland.”

“Lyonya, _stop_ -”

“-and I said that I did. You laughed, and the others did too, and you ruffled my hair.” (Papa has ruffled Stefan’s hair, too.) “You said that I could be the Lion of Russia, if I wanted. You said that it was my choice.”

Papa makes a choked sound but Lyonya ignores it and Stefan wonders if he should go in, if Papa is feeling poorly. Sometimes when Stefan feels poorly, Mama hugs him and rubs his back, or his belly if it hurts, and it helps. Maybe Papa needs a hug.

“The Winter Soldier told me I had a choice. It’s the sort of thing that sticks with a boy.”

“And that’s why you’re helping us? Because a man I can’t remember being spilled the beans about free will?” 

“Can you remember any of the men you were?”

“No,” says Papa. He’s speaking so quietly that Stefan slips off his chair and creeps towards the kitchen door. “Sometimes - not really. I know Yasha. I know -”

“Papa?” Stefan peers around the door and Papa is leaning against the counter, bracing his weight on his outstretched hands. There is a sharp knife by his right hand and sliced carrots in a higgledy-piggledy heap in front of him. 

“What-ho, Stepushka!” says Lyonya, jovial in an instant. “Are you going to be a spy like your Papa?”

“ _Lyonya_ ,” says Papa sharply. He pinches his nose, squeezing his eyes shut, like he’s been cutting onions and he turns around and crouches down. “Don’t say such things.”

“Don’t mind me, Stefan. Your Papa knows when I’m joking and when I know not to say Kay-Aye-Ell-Ell-Eeh-Are in front of you.” 

.

Stefan sometimes listens at night. He doesn’t always understand what Lyonya and Papa are saying to each other. Sometimes, they speak in English but Stefan knows more words in English now. Papa made him flashcards, out of old cereal boxes. When Lyonya laughed at him, Papa said that’s how he learned.

.

Stefan doesn’t know when things change. He only knows that they are changing. Lyonya goes away. He leaves piles of tinned food in the kitchen.

(“Like we’re dogs,” Papa says. He’s growling, now, which makes Stefan giggle.

"No," says Lyonya. "You're my little family of bears. Growl some more, Yasha. Show your boy how it's done, isn't that right, _medvezhonok_? You know what to do, Yasha. Twelve days.”

“Good luck, Lyonya.”

“Oho, it’s never luck, as well you know.”)

After Lyonya leaves, Papa is more restless. He goes out, sometimes, at night and makes Stefan promise not to open the door. He’s never gone long but he comes back with bruises on his cheek or ragged knuckles. Maybe Stefan dreams it because the bruises and bloodiness are gone in the morning.

“Papa,” he asks once, timidly, as Papa is pulling on his coat. 

“Stepushka,” says Papa.

“Do you have to go out?” Stefan asks. He wants to say, _don’t go out, Papa_. 

Papa frowns. “I - Would -” 

Stefan is brave. He’s brave like his Papa. “Don’t go out, Papa.” 

Papa looks confused again and he shakes his head, like he’s shaking water out of his ear. “You want me to stay with you?” he asks, almost doubtfully.

“Yes, please!” says Stefan, trying not to sound too joyful. “You can tell me a bedtime story.”

Papa smiles. “Oh, I can, can I?”

“You can tell me one in _English_ ,” says Stefan, gleefully.

“I’m not sure _Captain America_ is a good bedtime story,” says Papa, looking at the pile of comics on the bedside table. “Have you heard the story about the three bears?”

Stefan shakes his head. He likes stories about bears, almost as much as he likes stories about Captain America. 

Papa slowly takes off his coat and lays it over the back of a chair. He nudges Stefan over and sits next to him on the bed. “Once upon a time, there were three bears. Mama Bear and Papa Bear and Baby Bear -”

“Was Baby Bear called Stepushka?” asks Stefan.

Papa gasps. “How did you guess?” he asks. Stefan cuddles in close to Papa. “One day, a little girl - ”

.

Before they leave Vladimir, Papa cuts his own hair and he cuts Stefan’s hair. He doesn’t clean up afterwards, leaving all the strands in a pile on the kitchen table. 

When they leave Vladimir, it is in the middle of the night. It is like before. Papa has a bag on his back and he’s carrying Stefan with one arm and he’s holding his Kalashnikov in the other hand. They are walking away in the shadows and no one sees them, Stefan thinks, because they are too busy looking at the fire. 

.

They are back in the church in the field. 

It is night-time when Lyonya arrives. Stefan is mostly asleep but Lyonya ruffles his hair and sits down on the stone floor, next to Papa. 

“What did you find?” asks Papa. Stefan’s too tired to open his eyes again.

“You did a number on their base, Yasha. There’s nothing left. All the paper records are ash and I asked around - ” Lyonya coughs. It’s a bone-rattling noise that jerks Stefan into something closer to consciousness. His fingers curl around the front of Papa’s coat and Papa’s arms are warm around him. “There is no record of Subject Medvezhonok. He simply doesn’t exist.”

“We’re going to need papers, Lyonya - ”

“Hasty, old man. You are always so hasty. I have papers. Subject Medvezhonok may be a myth but Stefan Yakovlevich Medved is a real live boy, born to Tatiana Petrovna -”

“Give me that -” Stefan is jostled a little as Papa leans over. “It’s real, Lyonya. It’s a real certificate.”

“Precisely, Yasha. Who’d have thought that one of the Winter Soldier’s more recent directives was that of husband and father?” There is a sound in the distance and Papa says a bad word. 

“We’ve got to go. _You’ve_ got to go, Lyonya. You’ve done too much.” Papa gets to his feet and he’s still holding Stefan, who feels himself go up and up and now his face is pressed against Papa’s neck, where it’s nice and warm and Papa-smelling and Papa wraps his coat around them both because there is a chill in the air and it is September. 

“Take these keys,” says Lyonya. “They’re for a car parked outside the Sokol Hotel. Under the driver’s seat, you’ll find files. It’s everything I could find, Yasha.” He is quiet for a moment. “You may not like what you read. Maybe you should burn it. You have Stefan. He’s your greatest strength.”

Stefan feels Papa snorting. “The power of paternal love - ?”

“Don’t be an idiot, _Soldat_. Everyone is looking for the Winter Soldier. No one is looking for a father and his son.” 

The sound outside becomes louder and clearer. There are voices. There are dogs. 

“Go, Yasha,” says Lyonya. “I’ll - I’ll create a diversion.”

“Don’t burn down the church,” says Papa. 

“You aren’t turning religious in your old age, are you?” 

Papa laughs and then he is running, stooped low, with Stefan firmly in his arms. 

.

When Stefan wakes up again, they are in a car. It is smaller than the last one they drove and it is quieter. 

“Where are we going, Papa?” 

Papa looks over at Stefan. He looks white-faced and tired and maybe he’s growing a beard because his chin and his cheeks are dark with stubble. “We are going to Moscow, Stepushka.” 

Stefan kicks his feet against the carseat and he smiles. “I’ve never been to Moscow before, have I?”

“Oh, you have,” says Papa and Stefan is astounded. “You were born there.”

It’s the first time in a long time that Papa has said anything about Stefan as a baby. He wants to ask more questions but Papa looks so tired. Stefan wants to look after Papa and not make him mad or sad. 

“Will Lyonya be okay?” asks Stefan. He doesn’t remember a fire when they left the church; there was no burning air or red glow against his eyelids. 

“Do you know why we called you Stefan?” asks Papa, abruptly. 

“No,” says Stefan, looking down at his feet. His shoes pinch a bit and he can see his ankles below his trouser legs. He wonders if he’ll be as tall as Papa one day.

“You were born on Stefan’s Day,” says Papa. His eyes are fixed on the road. “And Stefan was a martyr. A martyr -” Papa bites his lip and then licks it. “A martyr is someone who dies for his or her beliefs.”

“Oh.” Stefan doesn’t know what to make of that. “Lyonya-?”

“Lyonya will survive,” says Papa. “He always has.”

Stefan wonders what the means, whether Lyonya doesn’t have any beliefs. The outside passes in a tree-green blur. 

“What about Mama?” he asks, after a while. “Is she a martyr, too?”

Papa makes a strange sound and his knuckles are white on the steering wheel. “I don’t know, _medvezhonok_ ,” he says, at last. “But I’m sure she believed in you.”

“I think she believed in you, too, Papa,” says Stefan.

.

They stay in a hotel on the edge of Moscow. Stefan likes hotels because there are televisions and bathrooms and even though Papa spends too much time by the window, there’s a big, grown-up bed, which means Papa will sleep. 

Papa turns on the television. There was a fire in Vladimir, but Stefan knew that. There was one fatality, says the lady reading the news; a thirty-two year old man who was a native of Moscow. There was a gunfight on the road between Suzdal and Ivanovo, between police and a thief, with three casualties. In international news, Anthony Stark, of Stark Industries, is missing, feared dead in Afghanistan. 

Papa turns off the television. 

“Get some sleep, Stepushka,” he says, after a while. “Tomorrow, we’re going to Paris.”


	3. The Spy Who Loved Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> +Apologies for the delay in continuing this story. Life, as she tends to do, rather got in the way. ♥

Stefan enjoys the train. It speeds through the countryside and it’s day and night and day again. The weather is getting cool so Papa can keep his coat on without raising suspicion. Stefan knows enough now to know that his Papa is the only man with a metal arm, maybe in the whole world. Stefan’s world is getting bigger now, when it used to be just him and Mama and Papa and Sasha the cat. Sometimes, Stefan wonders who’s feeding Sasha. Stefan cuddles against Papa’s left side for the whole journey. They share a compartment with three young men. 

“Papa,” whispers Stefan.

Papa looks up from his book. 

“They’re speaking English,” says Stefan. He’s enthralled.

“They are,” says Papa. He looks down at Stefan and he’s smiling. “Do you understand it all?” 

Stefan nods because he does; he understands that these men are American and that they’re traveling for fun. Stefan knows that he and Papa aren’t traveling for fun. 

“If you’re going to Normandy, you should go to Mont Saint-Michel,” says Papa, in English. “If you get the chance.”

“My god,” says one of the men. He has curly blonde hair and Stefan thinks maybe he’s trying to grow a beard but it’s not nearly as impressive as the one Papa can grow. “You’re American. I’m so sorry - “

Papa shrugs but he doesn’t deny it. “It’s okay,” Papa says. “It’s nice to hear some familiar accents is all. I’ve lived in Russia for years.” 

.

They stay in a hotel on a hill in Paris. It’s a little faded, with yellowing lampshades and lots of dark wood walls and it looks like no building Stefan has ever seen. Papa speaks in French to the man behind the counter and Stefan holds Papa’s hand tightly. 

The elevator creaks and it’s partly made of wood and Stefan’s a little scared so he huddles closer to Papa. Papa lifts him up and Stefan wraps his arms around Papa’s neck. 

“Are you American, Papa?” Stefan asks, though he doesn’t really know what that is, other than something not to be trusted or something not-Russian, something like those men on the train, with their wide and white smiles.

Papa doesn’t answer. Not till they get to their room, which is barely big enough to hold a double bed and a rickety table. Papa sets Stefan on the bed. The coverlet is worn and faded and there’s a hole at the edge that Stefan can poke his finger right through. 

Papa puts down his bag and then he sits on the bed next to Stefan. Stefan wriggles closer because maybe Papa will put his arm around him.

Papa does. 

“Stefan,” he says, and then he’s quiet. Stefan picks up Papa’s metal hand and plays with his fingers, counting in his head. Stefan can’t count very high but he knows he’s nearly four and that ten is a lot. 

“Stefan,” says Papa again. “Sometimes, I don’t do very nice things.” Stefan isn’t sure what Papa means. Papa’s frowning so maybe Papa isn’t sure what he means either. Papa curls his fingers around Stefan’s hand and then covers it with his other hand, the warmer one, with scars and fingerprints and bitten-down nails.

“Have you noticed, sometimes, that I don’t always remember the same things that you remember?”

Stefan nods. It’s like Papa not knowing when he’s supposed to have a bath or when his proper bedtime is. 

“You remember the important things, Papa,” says Stefan, overcome with loyalty as he looks at their clasped hands. It’s true. Papa remembers that Stefan’s legs are shorter than Papa’s so Papa slows down when they’re walking. Papa knows that Stefan like to sip Papa’s coffee, sometimes. He knows Stefan’s favourite flavour of yoghurt and he knows to rub Stefan’s belly when he has a stomach ache and he still sings the same lullaby he always has done when Stefan feels sleepy and sad. 

Papa smiles, a little, and he nods and slumps, like the air on top of his head and shoulders is heavy. “I don’t remember everything about when you were born, Stefan. I know you don’t either because you were only little but - “ Papa lifts one of his hands to rub at his forehead. “I don’t remember a great many things. I want you to know that I’ll never ever hurt you but if you’re ever scared of me, you must run and hide, Stepushka. Do you understand? If I’m acting strangely in any way, or if I’m mean, or if I say bad words, _run and hide_.” 

Stefan nods. His eyes are wide and he knows his bottom lip is trembling. “Will you come find me when you’re better?” he asks, with a quivering voice. 

“Of course I will, Stefan. Even if I forget you for a while, it’s not going to be for ever.” Papa frowns and closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If I go away and come back, you need to be sure that it’s me. Do you understand, _medvezhonok_?”

“Yes, Papa,” says Stefan. There are tears now and he doesn’t mean to cry but Papa is scaring him because Papa is sad and frightened. Stefan puts his hand on Papa’s cheek. 

“If I say _spyat ustalie igrushki_ ,” whispers Papa, “you’ll know it’s me. You’ll know it’s Papa, won’t you?” He opens his eyes and they’re clear and grey-brown and so much Stefan’s _Papa_ that it’s all he can do not to throw himself at him. 

It doesn’t matter, though, because Papa tugs Stefan into his arms and Stefan clings to him and he loves his Papa but sometimes he misses Mama so much. He misses her and he can’t even see her face anymore, or anything apart from clouds of blonde hair.

.

The next day, Papa sleeps for longer than Stefan. Stefan doesn’t mind, though. He has comics to read. This one’s a bit faded and Captain America is wearing a dress which seems a little silly. 

When Papa wakes up, sitting bolt upright and looking around wide-eyed, like he always does, Stefan taps his arm. 

“Do we need disguises, Papa?” he asks, pointing at the comic. 

Papa laughs. “Do you think I’d look good in a dress, Stepushka?”

Stefan scrunches up his nose as he looks at Papa. “Yes,” he says, after a moment. “You’re very pretty, Papa.”

That makes Papa laugh harder, which makes Stefan feel very proud of himself. Papa gets off the bed and rubs his cheek. “I’m going to shave and maybe that will make the disguise more convincing, no?”

Stefan smiles and kicks his feet a little. It’s a good day when Papa is smiling.

. 

They go to a train station called Gare du Nord. Before they get there, Papa buys coffee and pastries and a small glass of orange juice for Stefan. Stefan feels grown-up again, wearing a navy coat like Papa’s as they stand and finish their breakfast. He takes Papa’s hand and they move through the crowds to go to the men’s room.

Papa shepherds Stefan into a cubicle, even though he doesn’t need to go. When they’re in there, and Papa’s elbows are knocking off the walls as he turns around, Papa raises his finger to his lips. Stefan’s very good at being quiet. It’s one of the things he’s best at. While he watches, Papa pulls something out of his bag. Stefan is wide-eyed.

“What do you think, Stepushka?” asks Papa. His left arm, his metal arm, the special arm that Stefan must love just as much as the skin-and-warm arm, is now in a cast, and Papa is tying a sling around his neck and shoulders. Stefan doesn’t understand, at first, but then he smiles.

“Is it a disguise, Papa?” he asks, in a quiet whisper.

“Better than a dress, don’t you think?”

.

They get on another train but this time, the journey is shorter. They’re at an airport and Stefan grips Papa’s hand. He’s never been on an airplane before. They go to a check-in desk and the woman behind the counter curls her hair around her fingertips when Papa smiles at her.

“Of course, Monsieur Bjarnason,” she says. “That shouldn’t be a problem.” She peers over the counter at Stefan and smiles. “And your son, of course.”

Stefan doesn’t know what they’re talking about but it doesn’t matter. There’s so much to see and so many people. He presses close to Papa’s leg. 

When they leave the check-in desk, Papa crouches down in front of Stefan.

“We’ll have to go through security soon, Stepushka,” he says. “So what I want you to do is walk straight through the special doorway on your own and wait for me on the other side.” 

There’s a long line for security and Stefan gets a little bored. He wishes he could read his comics. He has a backpack, a bit like Papa’s, but it’s smaller and red and black and it’s got a picture of a spider on it. When they get to the top of the line, Stefan has to take off his shoes and put them on a tray. The security guards smile at him and they smile at Papa too. 

“I’m afraid there are metal pins in my arm,” says Papa, in English, gesturing at his cast. “Go through, Stefan,” he says, his voice gentle, before he address the security guards again. “I have a letter from my orthopaedic surgeon and the scans, too. Silly, really. Cycling in the Massif Central was not one of my better ideas.”

“If you can come with us, sir,” says one of the guards. “We’ll have to scan you -”

“Of course,” says Papa. He looks apologetic. He walks through the doorway and alarms go off, making Stefan jump. This is part of Papa’s disguise, he thinks, like _Bjarnason_ and a broken arm and cycling. “My little boy-?”

“Oh, naturally, he can come,” says the guard. He’s smiling at Stefan, too. “We’ll only be a minute, sir, I assure you.”

The guard has a stick that makes a loud beeping noise when it passes over Papa’s shoulder and arm. “You must have done a number on yourself, sir,” he says. 

Papa’s smile is small and he looks at the guard from under his eyelashes. It’s a little dark in the room, and a bit warm, and the guard’s cheeks are red. 

“You’d best hurry, sir. Your flight will be called for boarding soon.”

.

_This is the final call for Flight Four-Four-Four to Rio de Janeiro._

.

“I’ve never been on a plane before,” whispers Stefan to his Papa.

Papa squeezes his hand. “I know, Stepushka. I can’t remember the last time I was on a plane either. We can be brave together.”

.

Take-off is exciting and Stefan keeps his seatbelt on. They serve dinner in little heated trays and there are cartoons to watch. Papa tells Stefan when bedtime is and tells him to try to sleep. Stefan thinks he sleeps a bit. The flight is a little bumpy, like they’re driving on a road with lots of potholes. 

He might dream but he’s not sure. A stewardess comes over at one point, when the lights are dim and Stefan is curled up under a scratchy blanket.

“Your son is beautiful,” she says. A lot of people say that about Stefan. It seems a strange thing to say about a boy. “He looks like you.”

Papa’s laugh is quiet and deeper than usual. 

“His mother-?”

“She is - no longer with us,” says Papa and he sounds sad. Stefan wants to say something but he’s so tired that he can’t even open his eyes. “She’s been gone a long time, actually.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, sir,” says the stewardess. “If there’s anything I - we - can do, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“I appreciate it,” says Papa.

When Stefan opens his eyes next, Papa is gone. He blinks, and Papa is back. 

“You should sleep too, Papa,” says Stefan, the words thick on his lips.

“I will now, _medvezhonok_ ,” says Papa. “We’ll be there soon.”

.

 _There_ is a riotous city where it is hot and colourful. They ride in a taxi into the city and the taxi driver gives Papa his change and a pamphlet.

“What’s it about?” asks Stefan, wondering if it’s a comic book.

“It’s about God,” says Papa and he’s not smiling. “Perhaps that man thinks we need him.” He puts his hand on Stefan’s shoulder. He got rid of the sling during the cab ride. Papa looks around and takes a deep breath and the air is heavy here, too, but Papa is standing tall as he breathes it in. 

Now he smiles. “Let’s see if we can get lost, Stefan,” he says. 

Stefan holds his hand tighter.


	4. The World is Not Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Winter Soldier lives for a while (and, in which Stefan meets the Black Widow).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> +Huge huge thanks to Polly and to screamlet. Any remaining errors are entirely my own.  
> + **Warnings** for a scene of bullying and for allusion to previous miscarriage/stillbirth.  
>  +Warning also for a very self-indulgent roll through Bolivia and for the briefest of crossovers with _The Losers_.

They do not stay in Rio for long. It is only a week and Papa is wound up like a spring. It is warm and he wears long sleeves and Stefan wonders if he’s cranky because of the weather. One night, it rains, and it storms and it feels like the thunder and lightning rattle their entire hotel. Stefan curls up close to Papa in the big bed that they share and Papa runs his metal fingers through Stefan’s hair and every strand fizzles with static. 

They go up to the statue of Jesus, arms outstretched, looking down at the city and across at the bay. They are a very long way from Russia.

They do not stay for long.

.

São Paulo reminds Stefan of the pictures he once saw of Moscow. There are tall buildings and so many people and it’s greyer than Rio. There is a hard blue sky, though, and there’s heat here, that makes him think that maybe this is a place that has never seen snow. He and Papa live in an apartment for a month only Papa calls it _staying_ and not _living_. Stefan wonders what makes it living.  They don’t leave their neighbourhood much. They take the train once and strangers smile at Stefan but Papa says that it’s not a safe city. Papa thinks that no city is safe but then he smiles and it’s hard like the São Paulo sky and Stefan knows that Papa is more dangerous than cities.

Papa sits on the doorstep while Stefan plays hopscotch with the local kids and when Stefan introduces Papa to Rosa and Eduardo and tells Papa that they’re his friends, Papa’s smile is a good one. He solemnly says _hello Rosa and Edu_ and then Rosa’s mother comes to call her home for dinner and, before Stefan knows it, he’s in Papa’s arms and they are _all_ going home for dinner. 

Rosa’s mother lives on her own, the way Papa lives on his own with Stefan, except Rosa’s mother has three children. 

Rosa’s mother tells Papa that he speaks Portuguese very well and Stefan wants to say that they can’t speak Portuguese except that they can and they are and Papa’s eyelashes quiver a little as he looks down at his plate and the corners of his lips curve up enough for Stefan to know that he is pleased. 

.

They eat dinner at Rosa’s mother’s apartment every other evening and Papa tells the best stories. Stefan knows that they’re not real but he wants to believe them and he crawls onto Papa’s lap while Papa sits in the single comfortable chair in the apartment. 

“I was a soldier,” says Papa. “My wife died, leaving me with my little _medvezhonok_.” He squeezes Stefan gently. “It was _not_ supposed to happen this way.”

Rosa’s mother nods and her eyes look a little damp, like she’s been crying or cutting onions. “We do not expect our soldiers to survive instead of us,” she says. 

Rosa tells Stefan that her papa was a fireman. He went to fight a fire and never came back, says Rosa and Stefan nods, knowingly. Not everyone’s papa knows how to use fire. 

Rosa and Stefan watch television with Rosa’s older sisters and Rosa’s mother and Papa go into the kitchen to talk. They close the door and Marcela turns the volume of the television up loud and it’s a grown-up programme and there’s a man with a beard and a nice suit and everyone gets very excited when he says, _I am Iron Man_. 

“What happened to your father’s arm?” asks Marcela. 

“He lost it,” says Stefan because that’s what his Mama always said. There was an accident, she said, and Papa lost his arm. 

“That was careless,” says Heloisa.

Stefan scowls. His Papa is not careless. He does nothing without thinking about it and he always knows what’s going to happen. 

“It looks ugly,” says Marcela. 

“Do you think it’s cold?” asks Heloisa, which, for some reason, sends both older girls into gales of laughter while Stefan is left looking at Rosa, who looks as confused as he feels. 

“It’s a shame,” says Marcela. “He’d be so handsome, otherwise.” 

“Do you have a metal arm, too?” asks Heloisa. Stefan’s eyes widen because it’s a silly question. He’s wearing a t-shirt, which Papa never does, but his arms are a little pink from sunburn and they’re made of skin. 

“Or maybe he has a metal leg,” says  Marcela and she leans over and pinches Stefan’s thigh and twists and it hurts.

When Papa comes out of the kitchen, Stefan is crying hard and so is Rosa. Papa says nothing. He doesn’t shout at Marcela and Heloisa and he doesn’t say a word to Rosa’s mother who raises a hand to her mouth when she sees the welt on Stefan’s leg. 

Stefan is still sobbing when Papa lifts him up and he wraps his arms tight around Papa’s neck and Papa is stroking his hair and he just whispers his name, over and over, and _I’m so sorry, Stepushka, I’m so sorry-_

.

Later that night, Stefan is almost asleep when he whispers, “Papa?”

Papa looks over at him from his chair which is right beside Stefan’s side of the bed. “You should be asleep, Stepushka. We have to get up early in the morning.”

“We’re going away again, aren’t we?”

Papa puts his hand on Stefan’s shoulder. “We’re already away,” he says, quietly. 

“Oh,” says Stefan. The sleep in his brain is like cobwebs and he’s not sure if Papa’s making any sense. “Oh, but Papa?”

“Yes, Stefan?”

“I don’t think you’re the only one.”

“The only one -?” 

“I don’t think you’re the only man with a metal arm,” he says and his words are slurred. “I saw on the television - I saw another metal man.” 

There is a pause. “Go to sleep, Stefan.”

.

They fly to La Paz which is in Bolivia. Papa shows Stefan on a map at the airport in São Paulo.

“We’re not really flying,” says Papa. “We’re bouncing, see?” He points at the map again. “We’re flying from here to Santa Cruz and from Santa Cruz to Cochabamba and from Cochabamba to La Paz.” He throws Stefan up in the air and Stefan squeals with laughter as Papa catches him and Papa hasn’t been this fun in weeks and Stefan thinks, maybe, Papa really wasn’t alive but now they are moving again and he is happy.

They are getting on the plane when Stefan remembers that he never said goodbye to Rosa. 

.

Stefan wakes up when they get to La Paz and it’s cold and dark. Papa’s breathing heavily when they walk through the airport and when they get into a taxi which takes them down into the city. 

He’s not speaking Portuguese now, or Russian, or English, but Stefan is too tired to figure out what he’s saying. Papa finds them a hostel, which has a big courtyard, and stone walls, and then he puts Stefan on the bed and he’s still breathing fast when he lies down next to him. 

Stefan likes La Paz. It’s colourful, like Rio is, but it is all steep hills and narrow streets and the air is thin and it’s not nearly as warm. 

Papa takes him to a coffee shop that does the best hot chocolate in Bolivia, according to their waitress. She brings them two mugs, filled with steaming hot milk and with lumps of chocolate sitting in the bottom. Papa shows Stefan how to stir it and stir it until it is all deep brown and the lumps are gone. Stefan breathes it in before he wraps both hands around the smooth porcelain, the way Papa’s holding his mug. Papa smiles at him. Stefan likes La Paz. He doesn’t think they’re going to live here, either, but that’s okay. 

Papa teaches Stefan a few words of Spanish but Stefan doesn’t meet any children here because he’s with Papa all the time. He doesn’t mind, though. He feels safer when he’s with Papa, and he feels braver, and he can see for himself that no one is being mean to Papa because he has a metal arm. 

.

One night, Stefan wakes up and lies very still because Papa is on the phone and he’s speaking in English, which he doesn’t do very often. 

“You are very fond of that phrase,” Papa is saying. He sounds stern but, if Stefan opens his eyes just a crack, he can see the curve of Papa’s cheek. He holds his breath as Papa reaches out to touch his shoulder. His heart beats faster because Papa knows he’s awake and he’s not angry. Papa laughs softly. “I refuse to take credit or blame for something I can’t remember.”

His fingers tighten on Stefan’s shoulder. 

“Yes,” Papa says softly. “There are always exceptions.” He hums softly. “Well, rather you than me. If he’s anything like his father - Yes. Yes. _Spokoynoy nochi_.” 

Papa puts the phone down and curls around Stefan and he is safe.

.

They are sitting in a square, eating hot pastries. The sun is shining and it’s bright but kind of thin. Stefan smiles up at Papa and Papa smiles back down at him. 

“We’re doing okay, aren’t we, Stepushka?” asks Papa. 

“Yes, Papa,” says Stefan and he leans against Papa’s side, resting his hand on Papa’s leg and watching everyone walk by. He likes that they wear hats and he likes that a lot of the women wear bright colours. It’s cheerful and maybe that’s what’s making Papa smile. 

.

Except Papa has nightmares. 

Stefan didn’t know that grown-ups could have nightmares but Papa seems to have them a lot. He says it’s the thin air in La Paz. He rubs his chin and murmurs that he needs to shave and Stefan doesn’t know what that has to do with anything but he just nods.

 _Natalia_ , Papa sometimes shouts and those nightmares are in Russian.

 _Steve_ , Papa sometimes shouts and those nightmares are in English. 

Stefan knows they’re nightmares because Papa wakes up sweating and saying _no_ in a dozen languages. He knows they’re bad nightmares when Papa reaches for his gun, which is in the bedside locker, on top of a Gideon bible and a book on Scientology that makes Papa laugh. (“Even though, Stepushka,” he says, once, after half of a bottle of something called Pisco, “Brainwashing is no laughing matter.”)

In the morning, they eat a big breakfast and the waitress laughs about boys and their appetites and Papa’s smiling again, though his eyes are a little red. 

“Papa?” asks Stefan. 

Papa’s hands are wrapped around his coffee, which smells bitter and strong, even from where Stefan is sitting. 

“Can I get new books?”

Papa raises his eyebrows. “Are you bored of the good captain already?” he asks, as though it’s not been months since Lyonya gave Stefan all of his _Captain America_ comics. 

“No, Papa,” says Stefan, lowering his gaze. “It’s just - I’ve finished them. It’s my birthday soon.”

Papa blinks. It is December. 

“Then we’ll go shopping,” says Papa and his grin is splitting his face. 

They go to the Witches’ Market which isn’t as scary as Stefan thought it would be. Papa covers his eyes when they walk past a stall that he thinks will frighten Stefan. He buys him comics and he buys him new clothes and when Stefan asks why Papa is buying him a Bolivian football shirt instead of a Russian one, Papa says it’s because they live in Bolivia. 

“Oh,” says Stefan. He squints up at Papa and wonders how it can be that Papa has such bad nightmares but still thinks that this is a place he can live. 

“One more present, Stefan,” says Papa. 

Stefan chooses a teddy bear, with soft brown fur and big brown eyes, and Papa haggles good-naturedly over the price and then hands it down to Stefan who immediately wraps his arms around it. 

.

“Does your bear have a name?” asks the waitress, when Papa and Stefan sit down for dinner that night and Stefan’s new teddy sits on his very own chair.

“Yes,” says Stefan, beaming. His new _Captain America_ comics are nestled in his new _Iron Man_ backpack because he told Papa that he preferred Iron Man to Spiderman and Papa mostly looked confused. “His name is Bucky Bear.”

Papa chokes on his water.

.

The day after Stefan’s birthday, they go to Uyuni. They stay in a hotel in a tiny town on the very edge of the salt flats and they eat pizza. 

Papa says that it’s a holiday and when anyone asks, he says that he’s a single father, with his own business, on Christmas vacation with his little boy. They are American this week, Stefan thinks, and they walk past two men who say something about dotcom millionaires and Papa smiles broadly, the way he always does when someone believes his stories. 

Incahuasi Island isn’t really an island because they’re not at sea. It’s an outcropping of rocks in the middle of the salt flats and Papa and Stefan spend hours clambering over the rocks together. Papa asks a tourist to take a photograph of him and Stefan at the highest point they reach. 

When Stefan sees the picture later, he’s happy because Papa is smiling and Stefan is sitting on his shoulders, wearing his Bolivian football jersey and they are squinting in the sunlight. 

“Your son looks like you,” says the woman who takes their photo. 

“Unfortunate child,” says Papa and Stefan knows he’s joking so he laughs. 

After the island that’s not really an island, they go to a place full of rusty old trains. A tour group arrives at the same time. They get off their bus and scatter. Stefan holds Papa’s hand and they wander between the trains. 

“I like traveling by train,” says a woman. She is sitting on the back of one of the trains, her legs hanging down. She has long red hair and she is wearing shorts and a t-shirt that says _Rock and Roll is Dead_. 

“These won’t get you far, Natalia,” says Papa. 

“Not like the trans-Siberian,” says the woman, frowning as though she is not accustomed to agreeing. “We are far from home, Yasha.”  “We are, my little spider.” Papa holds his hand out to the woman and she jumps down from the train. Stefan hides behind his Papa’s legs.

“So this is the reason the Winter Soldier has forsaken the Motherland?” 

“She was no mother to me,” says Papa and his voice is harsh. 

“You were born again and again, Yasha. Don’t you remember?” The woman looks down at Stefan briefly and she purses her lips. “Again and again, Yasha, and every labour soaked with blood and this is your gratitude.” 

Papa hisses at her and puts his hand down to touch Stefan’s shoulder and now Stefan is holding Papa’s leg tightly, his arm hooked around Papa’s thigh. “You have little room to talk, Agent Romanov.”

“Can I not be bitter that you have what was taken away from me?”

“She was taken away from me, too -” Papa closes his eyes briefly and his hand twitches, like he’s reaching for Natasha but thinks the better of it. He takes a deep breath. “Stepushka, this is an old friend.”  Natasha crouches down in front of Stefan and he peeps around Papa’s legs to look at her. Her eyes are green and her red lips are smiling. “Hello, Stefan,” she says, very solemnly. “I hope you’re looking after your Papa. He has a habit of getting himself into horrible scrapes.” 

“Says my most avid enabler,” says Papa. He crouches down too and wraps his arm around Stefan’s waist and Stefan leans on Papa’s leg. “Don’t be afraid of Natasha, Stefan. She won’t hurt you.”  Natasha looks at Papa and her eyes widen. “You are so certain, Yasha.”

“The days of hospital fires are behind you,” says Papa. “And you would not have joined such an illustrious organisation if you had intended to stay a firestarter.” 

“You do remember,” says Natasha. “How much-”

“Not enough,” says Papa, harshly. “Not enough to be anything but a wanderer.”

“Enough to be a father, though.” Natasha reaches out and touches Stefan’s face and he doesn’t shrink away. Her palm is soft on his cheek. 

“You are very pretty,” says Stefan, without thinking. 

Natasha bursts out laughing and Papa is smiling too. “Thank you, Stefan Yakovlevich.” 

Papa and Natasha stand up and Papa lifts Stefan into his arms. Stefan sits comfortably into the crook of Papa’s left arm, his own arm slung now around Papa’s neck.   “What do you have for me, Natashenka?”

“You are so sure that I am on your side, Yasha.”

“I would never assume but you know that I am not with _them_ anymore.”  “And now we know how many innocent children it took-”  “Nat-”

“It wasn’t personal, I know.” Now Natasha is cupping Papa’s cheek and she leans in and kisses Papa on the lips. “But this is, Yasha. Say safe. I’ll make the drop in La Paz and you’ll have some more answers.”  “You couldn’t bring them with you?” Papa’s eyes are closed and he is resting his forehead against Natasha’s and there’s a stray curl of red hair fluttering against his temple. 

“Yasha,” murmurs Natasha. “I’m on holiday and so are you and we’ve talked enough business.” 

Papa kisses Natasha again and it’s soft and quick and Stefan thinks he used to kiss Mama like that. He hasn’t thought about Mama in weeks and he makes an unhappy noise in the back of his throat.   Papa clears his own throat and takes a quick step back from Natasha. “Enjoy the trains, Natashenka.” 

“I will, Yasha,” says Natasha. She smiles and takes a quick step forward, like a dance, and she looks a little like the ladies on the calendar that used to hang in the kitchen, delicate dancers in white dresses. She kisses the knuckles of Papa’s left hand and then she kisses Stefan’s cheek and he blushes and hides his face against Papa’s neck. 

They walk around for a while and Stefan sees Natasha once more, melted in to the tour group and listening to their guide talk about Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Papa lets Stefan climb on some of the trains and the sun will be setting home so they have to go back to the hotel, before it’s cold and dark. Papa says the salt flats are a place people can get lost at night-time and not in the way that Papa wants to get lost. They have pizza again and Papa drinks more pisco and Stefan thinks he sees Natasha in the hotel restaurant but she does not look at them. 

“Papa?” asks Stefan, curled up in bed while Papa works on his laptop. 

“Yes, _medvezhonok_?”

“You know the way all those trains had rusted?” he asks. His voice is wobbling a little and Papa looks up sharply, his face underlit blue and grey. 

“I do,” Papa says, quietly. He closes the laptop. 

Stefan swallows and his eyes prickle hotly and there are tears that he doesn’t want to cry.

“That won’t happen to your arm, will it?”

“Oh, _Stepushka_ ,” says Papa, and he sits on the bed next to Stefan and pulls him into his arms. “No, it won’t happen, I promise. Those trains are very old and they’ve been sitting there, doing nothing for years and years, with no one to look after them.” 

“I’ll look after you, Papa,” says Stefan, muffled against Papa’s chest. He doesn’t need a beautiful red-haired lady to tell him that because no one has told him that before and he still knows that his Papa needs him. He knows because Papa squeezes him tight.

.

They go back to La Paz and Papa finds them a new hotel. It is on another hill and they have a room on the ground floor and Papa says that they’re going to spend some time every day at lessons. Stefan’s never sat at lessons before and he’s excited. 

Papa is not a patient teacher. He rubs his cheek and says he was never very good at school and he paces around their room. He doesn’t lose his temper at Stefan but he looks puzzled at the old, dog-eared textbooks he acquired near the Witches‘ Market. 

“Jesus, Bucky,” he says and Stefan doesn’t think he’s talking to the teddy bear. 

.

They live there for six months. Papa doesn’t talk on the phone much anymore. He still works on his laptop every night when Stefan goes to bed. He never lets Stefan out of his sight and Stefan learns counting and reading in Spanish and Papa tells him fairy tales in Russian so that Stefan will not forget where he comes from (the way Papa sometimes does).

Papa makes friends with a tall blonde man who wears glasses and brightly coloured t-shirts. 

“I have a niece,” says the man, grinning at Stefan. “She’s eight. She likes soccer too.” 

The man calls Papa _James_ and sometimes they have a drink together after dinner. Sometimes the man brings another friend, whose eyes are bleak and sad, the way Papa’s used to be, in Russia. He teaches Stefan more Spanish. 

They have to leave the hotel when it burns down and Stefan clings to Papa while Papa walks away. Papa never looks at fires, even when he might have caused them. They get on a bus out of La Paz and Papa looks haunted again. 

He and Stefan cram into a telephone box in a town called Puno which is in a whole other country and Papa is agitated. “It wasn’t me, Natashenka,” he says. “But these guys said the CIA would be crawling all over the ashes.” 

He says a bad word and hangs up and then he looks down at Stefan, who’s got Bucky Bear in his arms. 

“Guess we’re going north, _medvezhonok_.” 

Papa is not smiling. 

  


	5. Die Another Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> +First of all, apologies for the delay in writing this. Various other commitments, including Yuletide, have kept me preoccupied.  
> +Secondly, huge, huge thanks to Polly and to Neve for cheerleading and soundboarding and, especially to Neve, for helping with my dubious grasp of the Russian language. Any remaining mistakes are entirely my own.

Stefan learns that New Mexico is not the same as Mexico. They are living (he is sure it’s living, now) in a small town on the edge of a desert. Stefan has never lived in the desert before, although there were sand dunes in Peru, when he and Papa were on their rambling, wayward passage north. Stefan remembers sitting at a table in a restaurant as gaggles of chattering tourists toppled in, enthusing about sand-boarding and dune-buggying. 

Puente Antiguo is not the oasis Huacachina was but Papa seems happy here. They have an entire house to themselves, though it’s small, with a kitchen, a living room, a bedroom and a bathroom. There’s a porch out front and Papa is tickled by the swing-seat. 

“Perhaps I’ll sit here and polish my shotgun when you bring girls or boys home,” he says. Stefan doesn’t understand. Papa always keeps his Kalashnikov and his Dragunov locked away because, he tells Stefan, guns are dangerous. 

There is a yard out back and Stefan is only allowed play there when Papa is with him, or when Papa is standing at the kitchen window. There’s no grass but that’s because it’s a desert. Sometimes, Papa helps him build sandcastles. Papa uses a hose to make the sand damp and malleable and Stefan builds houses and a diner and a gas station, like the one on the edge of town. 

It is nearly spring and Papa takes Stefan to the diner every morning for breakfast. Papa doesn’t say much until he’s had his first mug of coffee. Stefan doesn’t like this coffee. It’s too strong and too bitter. Stefan eats oatmeal and drinks a big glass of orange juice and Papa walks him to school.

Stefan doesn’t know what he makes of school. There are eighteen children in his class and thirteen of them speak Spanish at home but they're supposed to speak English in school in the morning. They have Spanish lessons in the afternoon but that’s okay because Stefan remembers all of the Spanish that Carlos taught him in Bolivia and Papa lets him watch cartoons for half an hour every day. Papa says that Stefan is more of an explorer than Dora is. Stefan likes being an explorer with Papa. 

In Puente Antiguo, though, Stefan is called Steven or Stevie and Papa is Jim. Their surname is Beare, which makes Papa laugh. Stefan thinks that Papa laughs more than ever and his smiles reach his eyes, now. Stefan thinks Papa is happy. 

This is living, Stefan decides one day, shielding his eyes against the sun when he comes out of school and sees Papa standing near the other parents (but never with them) and smiling at him.

Even though this is New Mexico, it is America, like the travelers on the train to Paris or like the man in La Paz who made friends with Papa. 

Papa tells Stefan that, even though they are pretending to be American, they are still Russian and they speak English every day, except on Saturdays, when Papa insists that they speak Russian. Papa is sometimes sad on Saturdays. 

They hike in the desert and Stefan clambers over rocks and it is not quite like the salt flats at Uyuni because it is sometimes hot and it is a little easier to see how far they have come.

Papa says they have come a long way. 

.

One day, they are sitting in the diner and Papa is reading the paper when two young women walk in. They are younger than Papa and there is nowhere for them to sit. Papa looks up from his paper and says, “my son and I are leaving in a few minutes if you want to join us.” 

One of the women is a doctor but she’s not the sort who fixes people. Her name is Jane. The other goes to school but it’s a grown-up school, in a big city not far from here. They watch stars and Stefan thinks that sounds like a nice job. In his class, his friends want to be firemen and policemen and one of the girls wants to be an astronaut, which is a little like watching stars, except up close. 

No one wants to be like Papa, Stefan thinks, apart from him. (He is an explorer, and an adventurer too, and he keeps his guns locked away.) Papa works in the local garage a few days a week. He says it’s to keep him off the streets and he flashes a smile. 

When they leave the diner, and Darcy has scribbled her number on a napkin for Papa, Stefan asks, “can we watch the stars?” 

Papa looks down at him and pauses in his stride. “I don’t know much about them,” he says, slowly. “But - if you like, next weekend, we can drive out into the desert?”

Stefan grins and he can’t help it; he claps his hands. 

“You can go to bed at eight,” Papa says and he’s smiling. “And I’ll wake you up when it’s properly dark and the stars are out.” 

It is only later that Stefan realises that neither Jane nor Darcy said anything about Papa’s metal arm, even though he was wearing a t-shirt and everyone can see the grey metal and the red star. 

.

In the diner on Monday morning, Darcy is collecting coffee and maybe it’s a grown-up thing, to like coffee that’s strong and bitter. 

Darcy comes over to their table, carrying a cardboard tray with two coffee cups and a paper bag. 

“You never called, Papa Beare,” she says. 

Papa raises his eyebrows. “I was playing hard to get,” he says. Stefan looks between them. 

“Cute,” says Darcy and she smiles at Stefan. 

“Papa’s going to take me out to the desert to look at the stars,” he blurts out. 

“Damn, it must be contagious,” she says. “Jane does have a tendency to rub off on people. There’s no other earthly reason I’d be up this early. She has _ways_.”

Stefan doesn’t remember any rubbing. Jane, who’s not the kind of doctor who fixes people, seemed rather shy. 

“Anyway, I gotta run. Astrophysicists do not _function_ without caffeine. Call me, Papa Beare.” 

Darcy scurries away and Papa looks faintly confused as he watches her leave. 

“Drink up, _medvezhonok_. It’s almost time for school.” 

.

It’s Saturday morning and, tonight, Papa and Stefan are going to watch the stars and it’s the day for Russian. Stefan sleeps on the sofa-bed on Friday nights so that he can watch cartoons in the morning without waking up Papa. Papa stays up late every night, working on his computer and having quiet telephone conversations. Stefan knows that some of them are with Natasha because Papa tells him so. He tells him that Natasha always asks how Stefan is. 

This morning, the bedroom door opens and Darcy steps out. She smiles at Stefan and pushes her hair out of her eyes. 

“So, uh-”

Stefan blinks at her and turns back to Dora. “I’m watching my cartoons,” he says, in English, because he doesn’t think that Darcy speaks Russian. 

Darcy looks at the television screen. “Oh, Dora, cool!”

Stefan looks at her for a moment. “You can watch it with me, if you like?”

Darcy laughs. “Oh, uh. No, I’m already dead late for work. Jane’ll be freaking out if I’m not there to scrub her whiteboards clean.” 

Papa comes out of the bedroom, then, and he’s wearing jeans and a sleeveless t-shirt. “You about ready for breakfast, Stepushka?”

Darcy looks a little confused as she pulls on her boots. Stefan looks at her quickly before saying to Papa, “ _ya khochu_ um pancakes.”

“Holy sh-. You guys.” Darcy’s eyes narrow. “You’re not secretly Russian spies, are you? I am so not equipped to be a Bond girl.”

Papa laughs and kisses her cheek. “Brooklyn born and raised, I promise you, darling.” He sits down next to Stefan to put on his own boots and says to him, “ _blini, Stepushka. Tyi khochish blini_.” 

“Yeah, that’s not really reassuring, Papa Beare,” says Darcy. “If I end up on _America’s Most Wanted_ because I sle- spent time with a Russian spy, I’m blaming you.”

Papa just shrugs. “That seems reasonable,” he says but he’s smiling. Papa is relaxed today, which is nice. They walk to the diner with Darcy and she buys her usual coffee and Papa orders breakfast for himself and Stefan and they talk together in Russian, about school and about stars. Papa tells him that the stars they saw in Peru and in Bolivia are different to the ones they’ll see tonight. 

.

Papa wakes Stefan up close to midnight. They drive into the desert and there’s a shooting star. Stefan laughs and Papa tells him to make a wish. While Stefan is trying to decide what to wish for (between new _Captain America_ comics and a bicycle), there’s another shooting star. 

“That one’s close,” says Papa and he’s squinting into the darkness. He smiles, though, and puts his hand on Stefan’s shoulder. “That’s two wishes to make, pal.” 

.

The next day, after Papa has bought his paper from the newstand, they go into the diner. Darcy and Jane are sitting with two men and they don’t seem to notice Papa and Stefan. 

Papa doesn’t seem very worried by this and he starts to work on a crossword. Stefan jumps when someone breaks a mug and then a big blonde man, who was sitting with Darcy and Jane, gets a bit excited. 

Papa looks up at their waitress, who’s watching this transpire with parted lips. “Must be from out of town,” Papa says lightly. 

Their waitress laughs. “Stick around another six months, hon, and we’ll let you talk like that.”

Papa grins and raises his mug. “I’ll drink to that.”

.

Papa watches the local news when they get home. He frowns and Stefan isn’t sure why. A piece of a space station or something hit the ground outside the town and maybe Stefan’s shooting star-wishes won’t count if they were pieces of metal. 

Stefan sleeps in Papa’s bed tonight and he’s mostly asleep when Papa takes a call on his laptop.

“Natashen’ka,” says Papa. “What’s going on?”

“You might want to get out, Yasha,” says Natasha. Her voice is tinny and the picture keeps freezing.

Stefan wakes up a bit more and crawls closer to Papa.

“Hello, Stefan,” says Natasha. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

Stefan hides his face against Papa’s side and Papa wraps an arm around his shoulders. 

“Something hit the ground near Puente Antiguo and my - ah - department has sent a team to investigate.” Stefan turns enough to look at the computer screen. Natasha’s hair is longer and tied in pigtails and she looks young.

“What kind of a something?” asks Papa.

“We’re not sure but maybe-” Natasha looks over her shoulder briefly and then lowers her voice. “Maybe extradimensional.”

“Great,” says Papa. “That’s just -”

“ _Yasha_ , these men are good. They’re the best. If they see you, they will recognise you. The Winter Soldier-”

“The Winter Soldier died in a fire in Vladimir,” Papa says, harshly. “I’m just trying to find somewhere to bring up my boy. It’s not my fucking fault that alien _debris_ just landed on my front doorstep.”

“Yasha, calm down.”

Stefan can feel that Papa is tense, every part of him is rigid and Stefan hides his face against Papa once more. He likes Puente Antiguo. He doesn’t want to go away. 

.

(They always go away when men in suits are involved.)

.

Stefan is supposed to be in bed when the doorbell rings. He creeps over to the door that leads into the living room and sees Darcy.

“They took my iPod,” she says, apparently entirely distraught. Stefan knows he doesn’t like it when the other kids take his toys at school. 

“Who’s they?” asks Papa but Stefan thinks that Papa knows the answer to this already. 

“Some men in black,” says Darcy. She wraps her arms around herself and she’s wearing a hat and a thick woollen jumper. “The head guy is called Cole or Coulson or something. It’s not right. Jane worked _so_ hard and they just took it all.”

Papa steps closer to Darcy and puts his hands on her upper arms. “Darcy, I’m going to ask you a favour. I need you not to tell any of those guys that I’m here, okay-?”

“Oh god, you are a Russian spy-”

Papa shakes his head. “I’m not, I promise. I just want some peace and quiet. Stefan and I - we’re going to leave town tomorrow.” 

Darcy lets out a high-pitched giggle. “Figures. A goddamned Norse god falls from the sky and I lose my steady lay. Fuck my life.” 

Stefan closes the door over when Papa kisses Darcy. 

He thinks - no. He can’t quite remember. 

(There was a woman, with clouds of blonde hair.)

.

They’re in Georgia, in a hotel room, before Papa turns on the television again and listens to the news. 

_A small town in New Mexico was the site of massive devastation earlier in the week. Officials say that a faulty gas pipe was to blame-_

Papa snorts and then he takes out a book that’s a map. Even though he’s got maps and everything on his computer (Stefan has seen them), he likes to use paper maps. He writes on them and shows Stefan where they’ve been. Stefan likes the first page, best, because it shows the whole world. He traces his finger across all the blue that they flew over from Paris and then Papa shows him their meandering path through Brazil and Bolivia and Peru, and then Ecuador and Colombia. They crept into Mexico and got on a big boat that took them to Texas (which is like New Mexico because it is America). 

“You’re not even five and you’ve seen the world, Stepushka,” says Papa. 

Stefan smiles back at him and cuddles into his side. He doesn’t really care about seeing the world unless Papa is there and he thinks maybe Papa knows that because he lifts Stefan up onto his lap and hugs him and murmurs, “what will I do when you’re too big for hugs, hm?” 

Stefan thinks that he’ll never be too big for Papa hugs because Papa is the strongest man he knows. Even without his metal arm, he’d be strong. Even with all the nightmares that he is, when he wakes up saying _no_ and _nyet_ and other languages Stefan doesn’t know yet, Papa is strong. 

Papa lifts up the map and points to a place that’s not far from the blue. 

“We’re gonna go here, _medvezhonok_ ,” he murmurs. “It’s called Savannah and it’s old and it’s quiet.”

“Is there a desert?” Stefan asks. 

“No, there’s no desert, but there are beaches nearby.”

Stefan nods once because beaches sound good. He hasn’t really seen a beach since he and Papa played football with some kids in Peru. Papa is very good at football but Stefan thinks that Papa is probably very good at everything.

After a moment, he asks, “What is my name?”

Papa looks down at him, startled. “Your - _oh._ Oh. I think maybe we should be Stefan Yakovlevich and his old dad, Yakov Yurievich.”

He takes out passports and a driving license and Stefan traces _Medved_ on the shiny surface and he grins. 

Stefan thinks he likes being Stefan and not just because it is easiest but because it is right. He thinks that Papa likes being Jakov, too. 

.

They are not in Savannah long when it happens. They have visited Tybee and Papa has enrolled Stefan in a local school and everyone says that they speak excellent English. They have gone on a ghost tour and Papa covered Stefan’s ears when the stories were too scary and Stefan thinks that Papa sometimes forgets about the fires in Russia and all the running away, which had always been much scarier. 

One day, Papa turns on the television and all of the stations are showing New York and there’s a lot of smoke and a lot of buildings have crumbled, like the way they did in Puente Antiguo. The blonde man from the diner is there and so is Iron Man and so is Natasha and so is Captain America. 

Stefan looks excitedly at Papa because Captain America is still Stefan’s favourite, even though he has an Iron Man backpack. 

Papa is not happy. His left hand is curled into a fist and Stefan knows that that hand can punch through brick when Papa is not happy. His eyebrows are drawn tight together and he’s muttering to himself, _of all the fucking nerve_ -

Papa looks at Stefan and his expression clears a little. He takes a deep breath and tells Stefan to pack his bag. 

“We’re going to New York, _medvezhonok_.”

“Why, Papa?”

Papa’s smile is not a real smile. It doesn’t reach his eyes the way it always did in New Mexico. “We’re going to visit an old friend.”


	6. You Only Live Twice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> + **Warnings** in this chapter for brief child abandonment.  
>  + **Thank you** to Neve for the hand-holding and encouragement.  
>  + **Abject apologies** to those of you who have waited so very patiently for this final chapter. Between other commitments and thoroughly psyching myself out over this story, it took me a long time to be happy with it. But thank you all so very much for your wonderful comments and feedback. It's greatly appreciated.

Stefan has never really seen Papa angry before. Papa has been irritable and Papa is often crankier than he allows Stefan to be, even when it’s been cold or when Stefan has not wanted to go to school. Today, though, Papa is angry and Stefan does what Papa told him to do, last year, in a shabby hotel room in Paris. 

Stefan hides. There are tears streaming down his face and he hides.

Papa finds him quickly. There are not many places to hide in their small apartment and Papa took all the keys out of the doors so that Stefan didn’t accidentally lock himself in or lock Papa out. He thinks locking Papa out might be a good idea now. All he can do, is curl up smaller in the corner under the bed. The bed is nailed to the floor and Papa’s arms are long but they’re not long enough to reach Stefan.

“Please, Stefan,” says Papa. “We have to _go_.” 

“We don’t,” screams Stefan. He surprises himself and he must surprise Papa, too, because he can see Papa flinch. “We don’t, we _don’t._ ” 

“Stefan,” says Papa, after a while. Stefan can see his jeans and his feet. Papa is sitting on the ground. “Stefan, I’m not angry with you. You know I’d never hurt you, don’t you?”

Stefan knows this. He knows this as well as he knows his own name or that Papa secretly likes Cinnamon Toast Crunch as much as Stefan does but they’re only allowed to eat it on Sundays. 

“Yes, Papa,” he says, a little cautiously.

“But we have to go. We have to go to New York. Someone’s done something very wrong and I have to fix it.” 

“But why?” Stefan asks, in a small voice. “Why can’t someone else fix it?”

Papa sighs and it’s short and abrupt and Stefan shrinks further back. He’s scared. Papa is scaring him. Stefan thinks that maybe Papa’s not himself, the way he said he mightn’t be, and even though he knows that Papa will always be Stefan’s safe place, he thinks Papa may have lost his safe place. 

“Say it,” Stefan whispers. 

“Say what, _medvezhonok_?” asks Papa and that’s nearly as good a codeword, here in America where everyone speaks English, sometimes too fast for Stefan to understand and sometimes so slow that he thinks conversations must take hours. 

“The _words_ , Papa. Say the words.” Stefan sniffles a little. He’s not really crying anymore though his throat is a little sore. “Say the words that mean you’re you.”

Papa sucks in a breath. “ _Spyat ustalie igrushki_ ,” he says, so quietly. He moves, a little, and then Stefan can see Papa’s hand, gleaming dully under the bed, palm up. Stefan holds his breath and then wriggles towards it, reaching out to take Papa’s hand and Papa is gentle when he pulls Stefan out and onto his lap. Papa’s arms are tight around Stefan and Stefan hides his face against Papa’s chest.

He doesn’t want to leave Savannah. It is not that it’s home (not the way New Mexico was, or Bolivia) but Papa is angry. 

.

Papa tells Stefan to stay in the apartment while he goes to get a few things. He calls them ‘supplies’ and Stefan learns that Papa means a car, and clothes, and a haircut.

Papa looks different with his hair cut. It is neat, now, and not at all shaggy. His new clothes are smart, too; a navy blue three-piece suit and a big navy coat. The car is different to anything Papa has driven before. Papa usually picks old cars and they’re almost always black or grey. This one is red and big. 

“Nice wheels,” says a man who’s passing by. Stefan thinks that’s probably a compliment and he beams up at Papa who’s not smiling, though he nods at the young man. 

.

“Where are we going, Papa?” asks Stefan. It’s grey outside; early morning. He doesn’t remember getting into the car and he’s wrapped in a blanket so he thinks Papa must have carried him out of the hotel room without waking him. 

“A cemetery, Stepushka,” says Papa. “A graveyard.”

For an instant, Stefan wants to ask if Mama will be there. It doesn’t make any sense, though, because they’re in America and Mama was in Russia. 

“Are we there yet?”

Stefan can see the corner of Papa’s eyes crinkling in the rearview mirror. “Nearly, _medvezhonok_. Nearly.”

Papa finds a parking space and he helps Stefan out of the car, untangling his blanket and unstrapping the seatbelt. Stefan asks if he can bring Bucky Bear and Papa smiles and ruffles his hair which is a yes.

They walk along well-maintained paths, passing groups of tourists with their guides. 

Stefan is curious; he doesn’t know who is here but it feels as though they are going to visit someone. Papa keeps straightening his tie and running his hand through his hair. They turn a corner and there, straight ahead of them, is a statue. 

“Papa,” says Stefan, in hushed tones. “That’s Captain America and Bucky.”

Papa smiles at him but it’s one of his sad smiles, like he’s a long way away. Stefan takes hold of his hand and pulls him along so that they can see the statues up close. 

“Why are there statues of them?” he asks. 

“Because a lot of people think they died, a long time ago,” says Papa, softly. “And Captain America did die, being very brave but Bucky-”

Papa is silent for a long moment and Stefan looks up at him. “Yes, Papa-?”

“Well, Bucky lived, Stepushka, though he got lost for a very long time.” Papa’s expression clears; it means he’s back and he crouches down so that he’s nearly as small as Stefan. Stefan steps forward and rests a hand on one of Papa’s thighs and rests Bucky Bear on the other while Papa puts an arm around Stefan’s shoulder. 

“You know that I’m American, don’t you?” asks Papa and Stefan nods because that’s what Papa told the boys on the train to Paris all those months ago. “Well. I -”

Stefan squeezes Papa’s thigh. “You’re not lost anymore, Papa. I know you forget things sometimes but you’re not lost. I won’t let you be.”

Papa smiles at him and Stefan’s pretty sure that grown men don’t cry but Papa’s eyes are a little watery.

Stefan looks up at the statues again and Bucky looks small next to Captain America but he looks like he belongs there. He looks down at Bucky Bear and then he moves away from Papa. Stefan can hear Papa’s surprised exclamation behind him when he puts Bucky Bear at Captain America’s feet.

“Stepushka, that’s _your_ bear. We got it in La Paz, remember?”

Stefan turns around to look at Papa. “But Captain America doesn’t have his Bucky anymore.” Papa’s eyes widen and he looks so surprised when Stefan comes back to him and wraps his arms around Papa’s neck. “Because you’re here, Papa. With me.” 

Papa’s arms tighten around Stefan and he stands up, with Stefan still clinging to him tightly. “You’re here with me, Papa,” says Stefan. “So he can have my Bucky Bear.”

Papa strokes Stefan’s hair and his voice sounds odd. “You’re a good boy, _medvezhonok_. I’ll - I’ll get you another bear.”

They walk back to the car and Papa is still strangely quiet as he puts Stefan in his booster seat and buckles him in.

“You won’t be lonely back here without Bucky Bear, will you?” asks Papa.

Stefan smiles up at him, as big as he can, and he shakes his head.

“You’re not lonely without - without -?” he asks, suddenly afraid that he is not being as good as he could be.

“Oh, Stepushka.” Papa squeezes in through the car door enough to kiss the top of Stefan’s head. “How can I be lonely when I have my own Stefan, hm?”

Stefan squirms and smiles at Papa. 

“Now, we’ve got a long drive to New York, so how about you try to nap, huh?”

.

Stefan likes Brooklyn. Papa says it’s a big city, in its own right, but the neighbourhood they’re in has a park and buildings that are kind of red and warm and friendly. Stefan skips along the pavement, avoiding the cracks, while he holds Papa’s hand. 

Papa isn’t happy, though. Stefan can see that. Every night, he sits at his laptop and his back is rigid and his expression isn’t serious, so much as blank. 

Sometimes, Stefan pretends to fall asleep on the couch so that he can stay in the living room with Papa. Sometimes, it works, and Papa carries Stefan to bed only when he’s going to bed. 

Sometimes, Stefan hears Papa talking on the phone.

“No, Natashenka, _no_. I don’t give a flying _fuck_ \- _shit._ _Shit_ , are you serious?” 

“No, absolutely _not_ -”

“Where _is_ he-?”

.

Stefan starts school again and his teacher is very impressed that he can speak Spanish. Papa has told Stefan that it’s okay to tell his teacher that they used to live in New Mexico. On Stefan’s first day of school, Papa comes with him, right to the classroom door and he introduces Stefan to his new teacher, Miss Savage.

Miss Savage is pretty and she curls her honey-blonde hair around her fingers while she talks to Papa and nods very seriously when Papa tells her that Stefan lost his mother when he was very little so it’s just the two of them now. 

She shows Stefan where he’s going to sit and Stefan can see that the back of her neck is red. Papa smiles at Stefan and waves. (His smile is tight, though, and there are shadows under his eyes and Stefan wonders when Papa sleeps.)

.

“Where do you go when I’m at school, Papa?” asks Stefan, one afternoon, when they’re walking home from the grocery store.

“I go to work, _medvezhonok_.”

Stefan scrunches up his face. “Miss Savage asked me what you do for a living. I said you were my Papa.”

He doesn’t know why that makes Papa laugh, or why Papa’s laugh is so shrill, but he thinks it’s probably a good thing.

.

They’re in Brooklyn for two months when Stefan wakes up in the middle of the night. Papa is shaking him gently.

“Sweetheart,” says Papa. “ _Medvezhonok_ , I have to go out. I promise I’m not going for long but I need you to stay here, okay?”

“What about school?” asks Stefan. He likes school and Miss Savage and the books they read.

“We’ll make sure you catch up. I promise to be back tonight, okay? You know how to fix your breakfast, don’t you?” 

Stefan nods. He knows how to pour milk onto his cereal and listen to the popping sounds it makes. 

“And I made you some sandwiches.” Papa’s trying to smile but it’s dark and Stefan can’t see his face very well. Impulsively, Stefan sits up and wraps his arms around Papa’s neck. 

“Do you have to go out?” he asks, in a small voice. He knows that Papa’s gone out, so many nights, but he’s never told Stefan before. He’s always come back before. Stefan starts to cry and he’s not sure why. 

“Hush, Stepushka, I’ll come back tonight, you’ll see. And we’ll get pizza, I promise.”

Stefan cries harder. He’s scared. He doesn’t remember being this scared before. He holds on tighter and his tears are hot against Papa’s neck. 

“I’ll come back, Stefan. I promise. I just have to take care of something and then it’s done, I promise.”

“We won’t have to go away again, will we?” 

“Would you like to stay here?” 

Stefan nods as Papa rubs his back. 

“Then we’ll stay, _medvezhonok_. We’ll find our own house. How about that?” Papa kisses Stefan’s temple and whispers, “I’m going to need you to let go. The sooner I go, the sooner I can be back and we can have our pizza.”

Stefan can’t help sobbing louder as Papa pulls away. “You’re not to answer the door to anyone, Stepushka, okay?”

Stefan nods. Now that his eyes have adjusted to the darkness, he can see that Papa is wearing his smart suit, the one he got when they left Savannah.

He doesn’t think that he can go back to sleep after Papa leaves. He creeps over to the window and looks down at the street and watches Papa get into the big red car. When he can’t see the car anymore, even with his nose pressed against the window, Stefan climbs back into bed.

It’s bright outside when he wakes up again and for a moment, he forgets. He forgets that Papa had to go out. He remembers when he goes into the kitchen and Papa’s not there, sitting at the kitchen table, scowling at his coffee. Stefan misses the smell of Papa’s coffee.

He gets his bowl out from the cupboard and he gets a spoon. He spills some of his cereal because the box is so big but he thinks he’s doing okay. Pouring the milk is hard too and he spills some of that and he thinks he feels like crying again except he suddenly remembers the day Papa spilled all of his coffee. Papa said that, sometimes, all you can do is laugh. 

So Stefan laughs a little to himself and carefully carries his breakfast into the living room. He puts on the television and there are cartoons on. He kicks his feet back and forth while he finishes his cereal. He watches Dora and there’s a cartoon about Spider-Man, who’s not Stefan’s favourite but sometimes he’s funny. 

When he gets bored of the cartoons, he goes to find his schoolbag. He has some colouring in to do, in a big book with pictures of New York City in it. He thinks he’ll ask Papa for a story when he comes home. Stefan likes having a story to tell at news-time in school. 

One of his classmates, a girl called Annika, told a story yesterday about her cat having kittens. Stefan would like a cat, sometime, or maybe a dog. He thinks they used to have a dog, just like he used to have a Mama.

Stefan spends lots of time colouring in. He’s still not sure how to read the time on the big clock over the television. Papa says that it’s Roman numerals and Stefan doesn’t know what that means. He thinks that it’s been twenty minutes and that might mean it’s lunchtime.

He goes to the fridge and his lunchbox is inside. His lunchbox is Iron Man gold and red. He carries it back into the living room and sets it on the coffee table. Inside, there is a sandwich, just like Papa promised, as well as a chocolate bar and a juice carton. There’s a note too. It takes Stefan a few goes to read it, tracing out the letters in his Papa’s big, block capitals.

_EAT THE SANDWICH BEFORE THE CHOCOLATE BAR._  
I LOVE YOU  
-PAPA 

When Stefan finishes his lunch, he thinks that he’ll draw a picture for Papa because he can’t write a note without Papa’s help. When he looks up again, the television has changed from cartoons to the news. Stefan thinks the news is boring but Papa doesn’t think so. He watches it a lot.

_-and the assassin known as the Winter Soldier has been apprehended in New York City. It’s believed that Captain America was his intended target-_

Stefan frowns at the television screen. There are blurry pictures and a very excited lady with a microphone. His heart is beating fast and he wants his Papa. If someone wanted to hurt Captain America, they must be bad and Stefan doesn’t like being on his own while there’s someone bad out there. 

He’s fumbling with the remote control to find cartoons again - even Spider-Man is better than the scary stories on the news - when there’s a knock on the door.

He freezes. 

“Is there anyone in there?” comes a voice. There’s another knock, hard enough to shake the door on its hinges. 

Stefan scrambles back against the couch.

_-it’s believed that the Winter Soldier travelled from Russia with an accomplice but this hasn’t been verified. Indeed, the Winter Soldier was presumed dead last year, following an explosion in the town of Vladimir, located about one hundred and twelve miles outside of Moscow-_

“Careful, Stark, it could be booby-trapped.” There’s a second voice now.

“That’s his style, huh, Captain? Your former playmate?”

“Can it, Stark. Just open the goddamned door. Agent Romanov said it was important.”

“Never thought you’d be one to jump just because a lady said so. No, who am I kidding?”

“ _Stark_ -”

Stefan lets out a whimper as the door rattles once more and then, impossible, the handle turns. 

He squeezes his eyes shut. 

“Okay, I’ll admit it. I didn’t see this coming. The Winter Soldier’s accomplice is a child?”

“Seriously, Stark, I’m this close to telling you to go wait in the car.” That voice, the second voice, is softer. “Hey, kid. What’s your name?”

Stefan wants to tell this man that he’s not allowed talk to strangers but when he opens his eyes and sees who it is, he whispers, “My name is Stefan-”

Iron Man’s got his helmet open so Stefan can see the way he rolls his eyes. “ _Stefan_. Oh, you’ve got to be shitting me.”

“ _Tony_.”

“Well, I guess it explains why there’s a goddamned child seat in the GTO.”

Captain America smiles at Stefan. “Ignore him. He doesn’t always think before talking.”

Stefan nods slowly and then he can feel his bottom lip quivering. “Papa told me not to let anyone in. Where’s Papa?”

“He’s safe,” says Captain America and Stefan wants to believe him. He really does. Captain America doesn’t lie, he’s sure of it.

“I want to see Papa,” says Stefan. “ _Please_. He said we’d have pizza.”

“That can certainly be arranged,” says Captain America and Stefan can see that he’s smiling, even though his face is mostly covered.

Captain America holds out his hand to Stefan and Stefan, after a moment, takes it. Papa always said that Captain America was his favourite so that means it must be okay to go with him.

“Do you want to bring anything with you?” asks Captain America. “Any toys?”

Stefan shakes his head. Bucky Bear is at the graveyard and Stefan wants his Papa now. He stumbles a little as he follows Captain America and then Captain America scoops him up, settling him on his hip. 

They get into the back of a car and Iron Man flies away. Stefan sits right up against the door and looks along the backseat at Captain America.

“Where’s your shield?” he asks, after a moment.

“I left it with a friend,” says Captain America. “Would you like to see it when we get there?”

“Yes,” says Stefan. “But I’d like to see my Papa first.”

Captain America smiles, his cheek curving beneath his mask. “You look like your Papa, did you know that?”

Stefan frowns. “He’s my Papa,” he says, very quietly. “Just because he’s your Bucky-”

Captain America goes very still. “They said you were very smart for your age, Stefan.” He turns his head away for a moment and takes a deep breath that makes his shoulders rise and fall. “He’ll always be your Papa, okay? Before anything. He’s very good at looking after the people he loves and he loves you, very much.”

Stefan nods because he knows that. Papa made him sandwiches and wrote him a note and Papa always comes back, except today. He didn’t come back today and before Stefan realises it, he’s crying again. 

“Step on it, would you?” says Captain America to the driver.

“Only so much I can do in this traffic, sir. Fury doesn’t want lights and sirens.”

Captain America sighs and then he pushes back his mask and Stefan looks at him, through his tears. He has a kind, handsome face and he looks tired, with the same kinds of shadows Papa has under his eyes. 

“Do you know what my name is, Stefan?” asks Captain America, quietly.

Stefan shakes his head.

“My name is Steve - Steven-”

Stefan is stunned, just for a moment. “That’s my name,” he says.

“That’s right,” says Captain America, encouragingly. “And seeing as we have the same name, I think we should be friends. What do you think?”

“You’re Papa’s friend,” says Stefan, slowly.

“Which makes it an even better idea, wouldn’t you say?”

Stefan nods. “Okay. Okay. We can be friends.”

.

Papa is in a room at the top of a tower. He’s sitting on a couch, wearing grey sweatpants and a t-shirt when Stefan pushes the door open. He’s holding Bucky Bear in his arms.

As soon as he sees Stefan, he stands up and runs towards him, even though it’s only a few steps.

“Oh, oh, thank goodness. Oh, Stepushka, I was so worried-” Papa sweeps him up into a hug and it’s all Stefan can do to keep hugging back.

“I was okay, Papa,” he says. “I ate my sandwiches before my chocolate bar.” Papa still isn’t letting go, though. 

“Can we have pizza?” asks Stefan because he wants Papa to know he’s okay.

“I am so sorry, _medvezhonok_ ,” says Papa, in a fierce whisper. “I should never have left you.”

“I knew you’d come back,” says Stefan, tucking his face against Papa’s neck. “And even if you didn’t, you sent Captain America and Iron Man for me.”

Papa lets out this hiccuping noise that sounds a little like a laugh.

“It’s going to be a while before I’m allowed out of here, Stefan,” he says. “The guys here want to run some tests to make sure I am who I say I am.”

“But you’re my Papa,” says Stefan, utterly scandalised. He pulls back enough to stare at Papa. “And Captain America - his name is Steven, did you know that? Captain America knows who you are, too.”

Papa sits down on the couch and he’s still not letting go of Stefan but Stefan doesn’t mind. 

There’s a knock on the door and then it opens and it’s Captain America and he’s carrying pizza boxes.

Stefan squirms out of Papa’s arms and his smile feels like it could split his face.

“Steve,” says Papa and his voice is so quiet. 

Captain America smiles at them both. “Well, I heard pizza was the order of the day and a friend of mine kindly picked up the pizza.”

He points at the window and outside, there’s a man who’s flying. He salutes and Steve salutes back.

Papa laughs weakly. “You got Falcon to play pizza delivery boy?”

“Hey, Brooklyn pizza is the best and Sam’s a good guy, you know?”

“He’s not the only one,” says Papa and Stefan thinks Papa’s smile’s kind of funny, like he’s a bit shy.

Captain America puts the pizza boxes on the table and opens them up and there’s pepperoni, which is Papa’s favourite, and pineapple, which is Stefan’s favourite. He looks up at Captain America.

“Which is your favourite?” he asks.

Captain America looks between the two pizzas, very seriously. “I don’t know how I could possibly choose.”

“They’re both good,” says Stefan. He smiles again. “Papa gets cranky if I take one of his slices and he pretends to bite my fingers.”

Captain America laughs and Papa’s blushing. “Well, between the two of us, Stefan, I think we’ll be able to fend him off.”

.

Papa’s right. They spend a long time in the tower and Stefan has to talk to a lot of grown-ups and some are doctors and some are called social workers. Captain America stays with him when Papa’s not allowed to be with him. 

Papa says he has lots of meetings, too, and he’s always tired in the evenings, when they go back to their rooms at the top of the tower.

Every week, though, there are more things in their rooms. Stefan’s bed is replaced by a bunk bed and there’s a television in his room. The house talks to them, sometimes.

Captain America is there a lot. Stefan thinks maybe he lives in the tower. He’s not used to calling him Steve, yet, but Stefan can tell that Papa is happy having him there. Sometimes, Papa and Captain America laugh together and Stefan doesn’t know what the joke is but he doesn’t mind.

One evening, when he can’t sleep, he goes into the living room, which has a television, too, and bookcases and picture on the wall, and he stops in the doorway. holding Bucky Bear in one hand.

“Stark gave you _what_?” Papa is laughing again.

“A copy of _What To Expect When You’re Expecting_ ,” says Captain America and he’s laughing too. “Once Natasha told us about Stefan, when I got back from Arlington.”

“She told me not to do anything stupid,” says Papa.

Captain America snorts. “Because that always works so well.”

“But she wouldn’t _tell_ me anything useful.”

“God, Bucky. Remember what _classified_ means? Anyway, she didn’t know you were James Barnes. Nobody did.”

“Well, my boy figured it out.”

“Yes, well. I think that’s the best part - Tony Stark being outwitted by a four year-old boy.”

Stefan coughs and both Captain America and Papa look at him, their heads turning fast. It’s like a race, as to who gets to him first.

“You okay, _medvezhonok_?”

“Can’t you sleep, kid?”

“Can I have a story?” asks Stefan. “And um a hot chocolate?”

Captain America laughs. “Definitely your boy, Buck. How about I get on the hot chocolate while Papa brings you back to bed?”

Stefan decides that this is acceptable and he holds his hands up to Papa, who lifts him up.

While they’re waiting for Captain America - for Steve - to find hot chocolate, Papa tucks Stefan in. 

“Papa?”

“Yes, Stepushka?”

“Are you happy?”

There’s a moment of silence. “Yes, I think - I think so.”

“Good,” says Stefan. “So’m I.” 

And even though the doctors and the grown-ups say it’s still going to be a while before Papa is allowed out again, Stefan doesn’t mind because he thinks, maybe, that they’ve come home.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Little Bear [ART for Medvezhonok]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1846972) by [Feanor_in_leather_pants](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feanor_in_leather_pants/pseuds/Feanor_in_leather_pants)




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